


His Mind, His Body, His Life

by infinitestarsintheskye



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Edwin Jarvis (mentioned) - Freeform, Endgame Au-ish, Episode: s01e04 The Blitzkrieg Button, F/M, Howard Stark (mentioned) - Freeform, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitestarsintheskye/pseuds/infinitestarsintheskye
Summary: Peggy Carter is beyond angry. Howard has lied to her, had tried to smuggle Steve’s blood from her under her nose, and for what, to make a profit?! As she storms out The Griffith, Miss Fry stops her with a rather intriguing tale of a young man and a vase of flowers...
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	His Mind, His Body, His Life

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow look she wrote something that’s not FitzSimmons for the first time in almost two years. I was doing a rewatch of S1 of Agent Carter a few weeks ago and this idea just popped into my head and has not left me alone since! My love of Steggy has been, I wouldn’t say rekindled bc it never really went out, but the flames have most definitely been fanned over the past couple of weeks and I have been having so much fun kind of delving back into that area of fandom again! I hope you enjoy this thing that came from my brain!

Peggy was furious. She was beyond furious. Howard had lied to her. Lied so he could line his own pockets with profits from Steve’s blood. She couldn’t even see straight, never mind think straight. All she could hope right now was that Howard’s eye was hurting him as much as possible. She barely even heard Miss Fry’s voice as she stormed towards the entrance. 

“Miss Carter! Miss Carter!” The shrill voice sounded across the lobby. 

Peggy forced her anger down, rather like she was swallowing something deeply unpleasant and plastered a smile on her face before turning on her heel. 

“Good evening Miss Fry.” She grimaced, really wanting nothing more than to get out of the building and pace angrily around the block for an hour until she could be sure Howard was gone. 

Miss Fry was peering at her from the reception desk, one of her well worn expressions of disapproval, with which Peggy was becoming quickly familiar, knit onto her face. 

“A most peculiar young man was here for you. He left these…” 

Miss Fry gestured to a rather extravagant vase of flowers. 

“For you, but disappeared before I could take his name and occupation. Most irregular Miss Carter. I’d be careful of him if I were you.” Miss Fry frowned. 

Through her still ebbing rage it took her a moment to fully comprehend what Miss Fry had said. 

“A-a man came for me?! W-what did he look like?” Peggy finally managed to stammer. 

The only two men who would care a fig about her being here were Howard and Mr Jarvis, and whilst Mr Jarvis was a good butler he wasn’t clairvoyant enough to know what had just happened with Howard. Peggy watched as Miss Fry thought for a moment, as her own thoughts ran rampant in her head. Alarm bells were sounding in her mind and there was something about this that didn’t feel right at all. 

“He was tall, slicked back blonde hair, wearing some rather bizarre outfit that I would really rather not see in my lobby again, and that beard Miss Carter! He looked positively wild! Oh yes, I most certainly would rethink my relationship with him if I were you.” Miss Fry sniffed. 

Peggy’s mind really was running wild now. She couldn’t think of anyone at all who matched that description, and most certainly not Mr Jarvis, her previous most likely candidate. Yes, something was wrong here, but she didn’t know what. Peggy didn’t like not knowing things. 

“D-did he say anything, or ask after me at all?” Peggy smiled, deciding that innocent and lovesick was probably the best way to play this. 

If she’d been feeling more up to it she probably would have added a giggle for dramatic effect. Miss Fry frowned slightly at her. 

“Well firstly he asked if he could take the flowers straight to you. You haven’t done a very good job of sharing the house rules with this young man Miss Carter. Then after I enquired if he was simply the delivery man or your suitor he made his feelings quite clear. Naturally, I went to take his name, but when I looked up again he was gone. It’s very odd behaviour Miss Carter, very odd indeed.” Miss Fry tutted. 

A thousand different scenarios were running through Peggy’s head. It was odd, very odd, but not for the reasons Miss Fry was thinking. 

“Thank you Miss Fry. Please let me know if he calls again, in fact please let me know as soon as possible!” Peggy beamed falsely at her. 

The frown on Miss Fry’s face deepened, much to Peggy’s satisfaction. 

“I will Miss Carter, but I must implore you to think long and hard about this man.” Miss Fry said disapprovingly.

“Thank you Miss Fry, I shall.” Peggy smiled at her, before starting towards the door again. 

“Oh Miss Carter! Your flowers!” Miss Fry called after her. 

Peggy grimaced and spun on her heel to face her again. 

“Yes, thank you, but I’m just on my way to run an errand, can I pick them up when I come back in?” 

“I shall leave them on the front desk for you. At least your young man has good taste in flowers.” Miss Fry said, fussing with the blooms. 

She was right there at least. The bouquet was beautiful, white tulips dotted with sweet william. Peggy gave Miss Fry one last false smile before swinging around on her heel again and making a swift exit. 

She couldn’t tell you how long she walked for, just that her feet were sore when she finally walked back up the steps to the Griffith. Her mind had been battling the entire time, between Howard and her mysterious suitor. There was something fishy about the whole thing. It unsettled her and she didn’t like it, not one bit. The flowers were still sat on the front desk when she returned. She approached them cautiously, before realising how silly that was. Miss Fry had been handling them all evening. She could pull them apart when she got to her room, just in case. Putting them back together may be another challenge in and of itself. Flower arranging had never been one of her primary skills. As she picked the vase up, she noticed the slip of paper that they had been resting on. 

_ Miss Margaret Carter _

_ Room 3E _

_ From -  _

Peggy let out an audible groan. He’d been after her room number. The vase of flowers still tucked tightly under her arm, Peggy bolted up to her room, slowing only in her corridor. She didn’t want to give any potential intruder any sort of warning. Damn. She’d left her gun in her room. Damn Howard, she thought, for what must have been the thousandth time that evening. Howard. She stopped dead. Had they been after Howard? Had he gotten away in time. Peggy’s stomach seemed to sink. Sure, Howard had been an ungrateful, greedy, pompous and presumptuous ass, but she didn’t want him dead. There was no way to unlock the door quietly, so Peggy decided that it would be best to be quick. With the flowers placed to one side on the floor, Peggy swiftly opened the door, and let out a sigh. The room was empty, with no sign of a struggle. Still, better to be safe than sorry. Tiptoeing into the room, she grabbed her gun from her bag, where she’d left it flung over the chair in her utter rage at Howard, and did a sweep of the room. The bathroom was clear, as was her closet. Howard’s things were all gone, a small relief. She’d check in with Mr Jarvis later to make sure he was alright. Quickly she nabbed the flowers from outside her door, and shut it behind her, locking it firmly. She’d have to put a few more things in place just in case, though she wasn’t sure how happy Miss Fry would be if she sealed the window shut, but she would think of something. 

Placing the flowers on her desk she gave them a quick once over. They looked fairly harmless, Peggy thought, but then again, so did everything at first glance. She pulled the flowers out of the water, dumping the water out, but not before giving it a precautionary sniff before checking the vase itself for anything peculiar. Nothing. Then she set to pulling the actual arrangement apart, in case something was concealed within it. Again nothing. This disturbed Peggy more than anything. A strange man, who she was sure she had never met before in her life, leaving a seemingly harmless bouquet of flowers, after apparently declaring his love for her to Miss Fry. She supposed anyone else would likely just shrug it off, take it as a compliment, but to her, it was beyond peculiar. Her mind ran over the description that Miss Fry gave her, as she did her very best to rearrange the flowers back into some sort of pleasant display. Tall, slicked back blonde hair, a beard, and odd clothing. Miss Fry hadn’t exactly been very specific but it was enough to keep an eye out for. Clearly not one of the Leviathan lot since he’d apparently been able to speak, but perhaps not unassociated. It was the beard that threw her more than anything. Who on earth had a beard these days? Some of the men had had them when they’d come back from the front, but those had quickly disappeared. Odd. Very odd. The clothing aspect Peggy didn’t put much stock into. Miss Fry would probably consider anything outside of a nice shirt and slacks odd. Peggy had learned as much when she had first come down to breakfast in her own slacks one morning, and Miss Fry had looked rather as if someone had slapped her with one of the kippers from the serving trays. The memory made her chuckle as she finally gave up on her attempt to get the flowers to look anything like they had before she’d pulled them apart. 

They really did look rather pretty, the flowers, sitting on her desk, Peggy thought as she threw herself down onto the bed, kicking her shoes off. It was the first time she’d stopped all day, and everything seemed to hit her all at once. Howard, the fact that the one remaining trace of Steve Rogers now sat in her bag. It was rather a lot to take in. Adding in the odd flower delivery, she wondered if Angie still had that bottle of schnapps. Her eyes fell to the brown satchel still slung over the back of her chair. It had been silly of her to leave it here, where Howard could just have taken it or where it was freely available to whoever else apparently wanted to get into her room. It was still there, her fingers had wrapped around the cool, smooth orb during her sweep of the room. She’d think of something for it tomorrow, when she was updating the rest of the security in her room. Damn. She’d have to get up early to do that. A fresh wave over anger seemed to wash over her as she lay back onto the bed, tears stinging at her eyes again. How dare Howard keep that from her. Out of anyone in the world she thought Howard would understand the most, about how she felt about Steve, about what he meant to her. But apparently like most of what he said these days it all turned out to be complete and utter drivel. Letting out a long sigh, she opened her eyes again and sat back up her eyes falling on that rather unremarkable looking satchel again. Part of her wanted to forget, pretend it wasn’t there. It would hurt less that way. And yet the other part of her wanted to hold the thing close, never let it out of her sights again. Keep him safe. 

The following morning started with her drills, as always. Some army habits were harder to break than others, and Peggy had never quite gotten out of that particular routine. After dressing, and fixing her hair, she made herself some tea and got to work. The locks on the door were surprisingly sturdy, but she made them as secure as she could. She’d put a quarter in the entryway before she went out. Just in case. After securing the window, she took a step back and surveyed her work. Her blinds would be kept drawn from now on, no one would see in and at the very least, they’d made a bloody good clatter if someone did attempt to get in. The brown satchel still hung dismally from her desk chair. She’d deal with the contents this evening. In the meantime however, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed down to breakfast. She wasn’t ready to let him out of her sight again. Not yet. Last night she had been reckless, and she wasn’t about to lose him all over again. She wasn’t sure she could do that for a second time. 

It felt odd being at the SSR office now. Now she was just back to taking lunch orders and filing. She felt an odd twang in her stomach as she realised that it would mean no more sneaking around, no more actual proper espionage work. As much as Howard had been a bastard, he’d given her a chance to actually enjoy her job again. To do what she was good at. The realisation made the anger flare in her stomach again. Damn Howard. But she couldn’t forgive him, not for this in exchange for a few weeks of feeling like a proper spy again. She didn’t expect that feeling to leave her very soon at all. She was still angry when she got sent out with the lunch order clutched in her hand. If anything this had fuelled the flames of her anger, however the walk down the block may do her some kind of good. And it worked somewhat, until the sudden appearance of Mr Jarvis at her elbow made the anger flare all over again. She couldn’t even look at him, else she knew she’d do something she may later regret, and as much as Mr Jarvis had lied to her, she wasn’t about to give him a shiner to match the one Howard was still sporting somewhere. The rest of the day passed by rather drearily, and she felt dreadful for most of it. Grief and anger did not mix particularly well. It was truly a blessed relief when the clock finally read five o’clock. 

Peggy dallied purposefully on the way home. She would be late for dinner, but that was part of the plan, even if it did earn her yet another steely glare from Miss Fry, though really that was like an added bonus at this point. Though if Miss Fry knew of her plans for the evening, Peggy was certain that she’d be getting much more than just a glare.

Hammering into the wall was deliciously cathartic. For a second, just a small fraction of a second, she allowed herself to imagine Howard’s face superimposed onto the wall, which was minorly gratifying. Hiding Steve’s blood behind the loose bricks, was less so. She changed before heading down to dinner. If Miss Fry didn’t approve of her slacks, then she was sure that she most certainly would not approve of her coming down to dinner covered in the dusty remnants of her own wall. She took her bag down to dinner with her, her gun stowed carefully in it. After yesterday, she had kept it with her at all times, just in case. After all, she had still not solved the mystery of the odd flower delivery, although her anger at Howard had occupied her mind for much of the day, and she hadn’t had much time to think on it. 

“Miss Carter!” Miss Fry’s voice sounded out across the dining room. 

Peggy let out a sigh, before plastering a smile on her face yet again, and turning towards her. She was in no mood to be chastised for being late. 

“Yes Miss Fry?” She beamed, probably more cheerily than was necessary to play off her facade. 

“I am happy to report that I saw no sign of your young man today. Am I to take it that I have seen the last of him?” Miss Fry asked rather too gleefully and rather too hopefully for Peggy’s liking. 

  
  


“I really have no idea Miss Fry.” Peggy sighed, turning around before the older woman could query her any further. 

Peggy could not, however, miss the look on Angie’s face as she sat down with her plate. Her eyebrows were raised and a smug smile spread across her face. 

“So English, anything you want to share?” Angie asked as Peggy took her seat next to her. 

Her voice was high and suggestive, but Peggy was not particularly in the mood. 

“Not really.” She mumbled in reply before shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. 

If possible, Angie looked more smug than before. 

“Well, I  _ heard _ that when Doris was down in the office last night talking with Miss Fry about getting her sister Beatrice a place here, which is a whole thing with her, let me tell you, she’s just desperate to get off that farm in Pennsylvania, but can you blame here?  _ Anyway,  _ Doris said that when she was down there was a big hunk of a man came in with the most gorgeous bunch of flowers for you, told Miss Fry  _ right to her face _ that he was in love with you and then left without another word!” Angie exclaimed. 

Peggy just chewed on her food and didn’t say anything. 

“So English?! You got a fella or what?!” Angie exploded when Peggy didn’t answer. 

Peggy swallowed thickly. The best thing to do would be to tell the truth, or as close as it to possible. Probably best to leave out the fact that the mysterious flower giver was probably trying to kill her, however. 

“No, at least not to my knowledge.” 

For a moment, Angie’s face fell, before lighting right back up again. 

“Oh so it’s some guy who’s trying to win you over huh?” She grinned suggestively. 

“I don’t know Angie. The flowers were as much as a surprise to me as they were to everyone else.” Peggy said, finally bringing her own eyes to look up at Angie’s inquisitive ones.

“It didn’t come with a note or nothing? Doris said the guy didn’t even hang around long enough for Miss Fry to get his name!” 

“Nope no note.” Peggy confirmed. 

Angie frowned.

“That’s a bit weird English! Unless it’s a secret admirer! Which is romantic if you go in for those kinds of things.” She chirped. 

Peggy couldn’t help but smile. It was refreshing to hear a somewhat normal take on this given her own proclivity to immediately go for dark and sinister, though nine times out of ten she did have very good reason for going dark and sinister, and this case was no different. But still, it was nice to pretend she was normal for a second, that the flowers might not be a death omen, but that of a shy admirer, too bashful to come forth and declare themselves. It was something Steve might have done. Not the Steve who was Captain America, who died on that frightful day, but that small Steve who she’d met at Camp Leigh, who could barely hold her gaze, never mind a conversation. The thought made her feel slightly flush, but also had the adverse effect of fuelling Angie’s own conspiracy fire, who spent the rest of dinner babbling about who Peggy’s secret lover may possibly be. Candidates ranged from someone she worked with at the phone company, to the mailman, to the guy who emptied the dumpsters out the back of the automat on a Tuesday evening. Peggy didn’t really have the heart to stop Angie. It would all blow over soon when the mystery man failed to reveal himself and all was forgotten. Either that or she would be found dead in her bed with a posy of white tulips and sweet william pinned to her lapelle and that, Peggy thought, Angie would probably not find to be quite so romantic. 

As much as Peggy liked Angie, and enjoyed her company, she found that she was desperate for some peace and quiet that evening and found herself hoping beyond hopes that Angie wasn’t going to invite herself into her room for a full blown catch up. Those were nice, when she had the energy for them, but tonight all she wanted was to crawl into bed and let her mind go blank for a while. She had been thinking about far too much, even in these past twenty four hours, and Peggy had decided she needed a break. Much to her relief, Angie declared that she was going to turn in early after an eight hour shift at the automat that had begun at opening, Peggy didn’t blame her. She admired Angie’s ability to keep herself composed in that place, at least at her job Peggy could demonstrate a mean right hook if a “client” was rude to her. She wished Angie a good night at their respective doors, Angie’s closing behind her rather dramatically, before Peggy turned to her own. She barely had the door open an inch before she knew something was wrong. The quarter was lying on the carpet. Someone was in her room. 

Peggy checked that the corridor was clear, and listened for any approaching footsteps, before pulling her gun from her bag. It was odd. The intruder must have heard the door open, must have seen the light shining in, and yet hadn’t acted. For a moment Peggy wondered if it was Howard, come back to beg for forgiveness. Still, she nestled her finger on the trigger of her pistol, just in case, and pushed open the door. If she had had a weaker constitution she would have passed out. She blinked twice, before raising her gun at the intruder. It could not possibly be him. A man, matching Miss Fry’s description from yesterday was sitting on her bed. Tall, slicked back blonde hair, a beard, and well she wouldn’t call his clothes odd persay, but they certainly weren’t in fashion. Steve. He was the spitting image of Steve. 

Catching the edge of the door with her foot Peggy slammed it shut with her heel, her gun trained on the man, who had now raised his hands, and was getting up slowly from the bed. 

“Peggy.” He uttered.

God, he even sounded like Steve. 

“Who are you?” She demanded. 

“Peggy I can explain.” The man said, his gaze fixed most determinedly at her. 

“You’re not him. You can’t be him. Who are you?” Peggy demanded again.

She was shocked to hear the shake in her voice. The man stared at her with glazed eyes, as if he was about to cry. 

“Eight o’clock at the Stork Club. Don’t you dare be late.” The man said, an audible lump in his throat. 

Only one other person in the world knew those words, and he was lying dead somewhere in the icy cold water of the Atlantic. 

“Steve?” 

Her voice broke as she spoke, but she kept her gun raised. It would take more than a few words to convince her. 

“Yeah, Peggy. Sorry I’m late.” The man, Steve, smiled shakily. 

“H-how?” Peggy asked. 

She felt a tear roll down her cheek. This was cruel. A joke, a dream of some kind. This couldn’t be real. Steve was dead. And yet, here he was, standing right in front of her. 

“That’s a long story.” Steve sighed. 

“D-does Howard know? If Howard knew and he was here and didn’t tell me I will go out and blacken his other eye.” 

He chuckled at this. 

“His other eye? What’d he do to deserve the first one?” He half grinned. 

“Don’t change the subject.” Peggy said sharply. 

Her hands were shaking now. Damn it. Her hands never shook. 

“I still don’t believe you. How can you prove it? How do I know that you aren’t just some imposter.” Peggy demanded. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small round object and held it out to her. 

“My compass. I had it with me on the Valkyrie. It went down with me. I had it propped open as you were speaking to me, as I was, you know…” He trailed. 

“It has your picture inside. I looked at it when you were talking to me. Trying to get me to give you my coordinates. I stared at you until the end Peggy. Or what I thought was the end. Like I said, it’s a long story.” 

Peggy edged forward and took the compass from him. With bated breath she eased it open, and saw herself, her younger self, staring back at her. It was real. It was him. Somehow, beyond all odds, despite any kind of reason or logic, Steve Rogers was standing in front of her and she stared at the compass in her hand in utter disbelief. Finally her eyes came back up to meet his. Tears were now rolling down his cheeks. 

“You’re late, my darling, so very late.” 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t call my ride.” Steve said with a small smile, his voice thick and watery.

Peggy reached out to him, before realising that in one hand, she still had her gun, and Steve’s compass in the other. Both were placed carefully on her bedside table before Peggy hesitantly reached out to him once more. 

“I’m here Peg, I promise.” Steve said softly. 

“I’m just terrified that this is a dream, that you aren’t truly here my darling.” Peggy whispered, her hand stopped mere inches from his body. 

Steve reached up and gently took her outstretched hand into his own, tangling his fingers around hers. Peggy felt her breath involuntarily catch in her throat as she registered the feel of him, the very warmth of him around her fingers. It was then that she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t dreaming, she wasn’t hallucinating. Steve was real, he was here, and his hand was presently clasped around her own. It truly beggared belief. Tentatively Peggy brought her free hand up to his face, feeling the raspy wisps of his beard beneath her fingertips, before grazing across soft, smooth skin. 

“I hope you know I expect a full explanation.” Peggy murmured as her fingers traced across his cheek. 

Steve smiled, and Peggy rejoiced in the simple pleasure of the slight move of his muscles under her fingertips. 

“I promise. But first, you gave me something before I went up into the Valkyrie, and I have been waiting a long time to give it back.” 

Before Peggy could even open her mouth to question him, she felt his arm wind around her back, pulling her close, before Steve leaned down and captured her lips with his own. The hand that had been on Steve’s cheek reaching up and tangling in his hair. Their tears mingled between them and it was soft and most overwhelming, Soft brown eyes met velvety blue ones as they broke apart. Peggy could simply not comprehend it all, the feel of him under her hands, the familiarity of his lips against her own, she’d replayed that short kiss of theirs before he’d jumped onto that godforsaken plane so many times in her head, forced herself to keep the memory of it alive in her head, to remember the feel of him, the warmth of him. 

“Oh my darling.” She whispered against his lips, barely audible, her hand tracing across his cheek once more. 

Peggy felt, more than saw, him smile gently, before pulling her close, her head tucked into his shoulder. For a moment they just stood there, and Peggy breathed the smell of him in. It was so familiar, just as she remembered it. The touch of him, by god, it was too much and not enough all at once. The warmth of his hands splayed across her back, his fingers moving gently, soothingly up and down. It was an odd feeling, as though she wanted to absorb him into herself, have that feel of him wrapped around her like this permanently woven into her being. One thing was for certain however, she was never letting him go again. Now, now she could really keep him safe, properly this time. This time she would not fail. Slowly, still wrapped around him, Peggy blinked her eyes open, Part of her needed the visual confirmation too. Her eyes fell on the painting above her nightstand, the one which was now oh so conveniently hiding the hole she’d knocked into it earlier that evening. 

“I have your blood in my wall.” Peggy mumbled rather unconsciously into his shoulder. 

“You what?!” Steve exclaimed, pulling back out of their embrace slightly.

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. Shock turned to slight refulsion, turned to utter bewilderment.

“Howard. It was stolen from Howard, along with a whole other array of ghastly inventions, which were found by the SSR. He lied about what it was, so that I would steal it back, but I’m afraid his butler isn’t as good a liar as he was. So I kept it, chiseled a hole in the wall and well, there it has remained for at least the past hour or so.” 

“I can’t imagine you went easy on him.”

“No. He should consider himself lucky that he got away with only a black eye, which by the look of it ten minutes afterwards he should still be sporting.” 

Steve let out a chuckle. 

“That was one of the first things I learned about you. Your mean right hook. Hodge whinged about his eye for a week after you hit him that first day of training. The other guys gave him a lot of stick for it, but I mean you did give him quite the shiner.” Steve smiled. 

Peggy laughed at the memory. Hodge had never quite been able to fully look her in the eye after that particularly memorable first encounter. 

“Think I fell half in love with you right then.” Steve mused, gazing down at her. 

“Steve.” Peggy breathed quietly. 

“I know I have a lot of explaining to do Peggy. I’m not kidding when I say it’s a long story. If you believe half of it, I’ll count that as a win. But you gotta know I came back for you.” 

“Sap.” Peggy murmured, but with a smile spread across her face.

Steve gave a small laugh. 

“I know. But an old friend of mine told me I needed to get a life, and I think that starts with talking to you, and then I believe I’m late for a dance.” 

They sat on her bed, and Steve spoke for what must have been hours. If she’d thought the sight of him had been overwhelming, it was nothing to the stories he told, of the future, of alien invasions, of half of the population of the universe dissolving into midair, and of time travel, of what had brought him back. For a moment Peggy sat there stunned. But she believed him. It was far too outlandish for it not to be true. As they spoke, slowly their hands tangled together on Peggy’s lap. On one of her bookshelves, a clock chimed, and Peggy was suddenly aware of how late it was. 

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” Peggy asked softly. 

Steve nodded. 

“I’ve been renting a room in Brooklyn for a few nights. I-uh I came back a few days ago. Took me a while to get up the courage to come and see you.” He confessed rather sheepishly. 

Peggy’s eyes flitted to the vase of flowers on her vanity. 

“I suppose the flowers were from you then?” She smiled, jerking her head over to where they now sat, still somewhat disheveled looking from her rearranging efforts. 

“Yeah. You have a scary landlady, and I probably wouldn’t have done it if I’d know it would have made you up your security.” Steve smiled.

“Sorry about that. I’m afraid I ruined the rather lovely arrangement too. Things at work are, well, tense at the moment, and I wanted to be careful. Miss Fry thinks you’re some kind of wild man and has been telling me not to encourage you.” Peggy grinned. 

Steve laughed and reached up and scratched at his beard. 

“I know it’s not exactly fashionable right now, but I couldn’t just walk down the street looking like my old self. I don’t blame your landlady for wanting to protect your honour.” Steve chuckled. 

Peggy raised an eyebrow. 

“You should know better than anyone than I am more than capable of protecting my own honour.” 

A distant memory of four shots fired at him in jealousy and anger rang in her ears. 

“I know.” Steve smiled. 

Silence fell over them, so much still unspoken still lingering in the air between them. 

“Would you like me to go? I wouldn’t want to get you kicked out or anything?” Steve offered, jerking his hand towards the window.

Peggy didn’t have to think before shaking her head. 

“No. Stay. Please. I think if I woke up by myself tomorrow I’d just think I dreamed it all.” 

Red patches appeared high on Steve’s cheeks at her words. 

“T-tomorrow?” He stammered. 

“Oh nothing like that!” Peggy insisted, catching on rather quickly to his meaning. 

“Unless you want to-” She started. 

“No-no I mean, I uh, I always thought I’d uh, make an honest woman out of you before…” Steve rambled, before stopping himself mid-sentence, his entire face aglow. 

Peggy couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at his words. 

“Okay then. We can just sleep. We’ll find a way of sneaking you back out tomorrow morning” She said softly, her lips still curled up into a smile as she squeezed his hand gently. 

Steve visibly relaxed at her words, and slowly brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. 

“I’m glad you came back.” Peggy said, her voice almost a whisper. 

“Me too. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Steve concurred, his lips still close enough to her skin that she could feel his words against her.

That night, they fell asleep together in Peggy’s rather small bed, wrapped around each other. Peggy wouldn’t have had it any other way however. Her head rested on his chest and she drifted off, lulled by the steady sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, undeniable proof that he was here, and that he was alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> SO the flowers Steve gives Peggy. I love a flower meaning, and I did some googling and pls enjoy the definitions of white tulips and sweet william that I found and I just thought they were perfect. 
> 
> White Tulip:
> 
> These flowers are used to show worthiness and to seek forgiveness, making them a great flower for when you’re trying to apologise.
> 
> Sweet William:
> 
> As one of the only flowers to symbolise masculinity, sweet william means gallantry. Historically, Sweet William was mentioned in romantic ballads as a noble, lovelorn hero, so give these to your knight in shining armour..
> 
> In this case, I see Peggy as Steve’s knight in shining armour and I JUST I HAD TO DO IT. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Skye :)


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